


Things I'll Never Say

by shewhospeakswiththunder



Category: Cobra Kai (Web Series)
Genre: Bullying, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gaslighting, Hawk can be an asshole, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, International Fanworks Day 2021, Kissing, Light Angst, Making Out, Social Anxiety, Swearing, Teen Angst, Teenagers, Underage Drinking, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, being a fandom of one i guess i make the rules, being vulnerable, is that the ship name?, living my best life out here in no man's land, moonhawk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:27:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27594800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shewhospeakswiththunder/pseuds/shewhospeakswiththunder
Summary: Moon stays with Hawk at the party on the riverbank, and then she takes him home with her.Or, how I imagine it all started.
Relationships: Moon/Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz
Comments: 12
Kudos: 30





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a rando work for a nonexistent fandom, solely for my own pleasure. Or for the one person who searches AO3 for this particular ship someday and finds less than 10 fics, as I did.

  


The moment Moon smiled at Hawk and started down the steep hill toward him, blanket in hand, his stomach did a backflip and he knew tonight had more in store for him than any night before.

After arguing with her friend, whom Hawk recognized as the gorgeous blonde with a sneering face from school, Moon made a beeline to where he stood on the sandy bank of the river. Her wide smile set butterflies fluttering in his belly, and he harshly reminded himself to pull it together. New look, new attitude. Hawk shouldn’t be nervous if a girl with a smile like the sun walks up to him, and him _specifically._

“Hey. Where do I know you from?” Moon asked, entering his personal space like it was no big deal. Like he was someone who was used to that.

Taking a swig of the booze in his solo cup, he replied cavalierly, hoping the confidence in his voice would be enough to convince her of the lie. “I don’t think we’ve met before.”

She narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “I never forget a face. What are you drinking?” she swiftly changed the subject, standing on tiptoe to peek into his cup, the action bringing them even closer together.

“Want some?”

Shooting him a look that said, _of course, duh,_ he nodded and led her to the cooler stuffed with PBR, watching her as she scooped a bottle out and flipped off the cap with practiced ease. This was her scene, after all. Well, it was Hawk’s scene now, too.

The California sun quickly dipped below the forest's canopy, its warmth fading just as fast as its light, allowing the coolness of the air over the water to creep up to the campfires, giving the couples at the party an excuse to huddle close.

They’d made their way to a low driftwood bench, and Moon sat down next to him, close enough that their thighs touched. It occurred to Hawk that she knew exactly what she was doing, but couldn’t bring himself to care as he regarded her.

Every lovely, soft feature of her face was lit by the glow of the flames, throwing their golden tones on her skin. An angel in the flesh, and sitting right next to him. Hawk could hardly breathe.

Eli Moskowitz didn’t get girls like this, and to be honest, Hawk had a hard time believing any different.

He’d shaved, bleached, and dyed his hair in the bathroom he shared with his mother, sat for long, painful hours under the buzzing sting of an ink needle. He’d practically memorized Youtube videos on how to properly style a mohawk, he’d watched them so many times. He’d stared at his own face in the mirror and rearranged his expression until he saw an alpha instead of a weakling, practicing saying four-letter words out loud until they didn’t feel foreign in his mouth. He’d flipped the fucking script, reforging himself with his own two hands.

It could be that this girl might be the one to tear it all apart.

Palms sweaty, despite the chill, heart racing and mouth dry, it took every ounce of control not to let his nerves show. That was Eli bleeding through. But Hawk was the phoenix rising from the ashes of a dead boy, and Hawk wasn’t afraid of some girl.

Even if she was as far out of his league as the literal moon in the sky.

_Fuck._

Moon scrunched up her nose and shook her head, making her dangly earrings sparkle in the firelight. “For real, though. I recognize you from somewhere.”

_Two times fuck to the third._

“I can guarantee you’re wrong,” he forced out with bravado.

Moon laughed. “No, I totally do! Gimme a second, it’ll come to me.”

Hawk’s smile fell and he looked at his drink, unable to meet her scrutiny. The truth was there, albeit buried, and the deep-seated fear that she could somehow see right through him and unearth it sat cold in his gut.

“God, I love that color,” she interrupted his brooding, eyeing the bright blue he’d chosen from the hair-dye section at the grocery store. “It’s like punk rock, but better.” Raising her hand to touch his hair, Hawk seized what he knew to be a pivotal moment and snatched her wrist in midair.

“I don’t let just any girl touch it.”

He’d surprised her, he saw it in her open-mouthed reaction and the spark of intrigue that lit her eyes.

“Can I?”

The underside of her wrist felt delicate and smooth to his fingers, which had only just begun to develop callouses from weight training.

Their eyes met and Hawk couldn’t suppress a dry swallow as he slowly released his grip on her, allowing her to continue to reach out and trace a finger up the side of the gelled spike. A shiver rolled down his spine.

“I _so_ know you.”

“You don’t, I promise,” he replied, hating the way his voice cracked and compensating for it by flipping a long lock of her hair over her shoulder. He’d never touched a girl’s hair before, and Hawk reeled with the shock of his own boldness. 

She narrowed her eyes at him again, inquisitive, before shrugging. “Okay, then. What’s your name, anyway?” she murmured, taking a sip of her drink.

“Hawk,” he said proudly, but the awkward silence and her expectant look reminded him that, if he wanted to keep up this charade, he should have asked for her name, too. He cleared his throat. “Uh, what’s yours?”

“I’m Moon,” she replied, but despite her air of innocence, Hawk was left with the distinct impression that she’d been testing him.

He leaned in, eager to erase her doubts. “Nice to meet you.”

Mirroring him, she leaned in, too, close enough that he could smell her perfume or shampoo, or whatever it was she wore that made her smell warm and homey. “Same.”

Her gaze dropped suddenly to his lips, and Hawk backpedaled, certain she was looking at his scar. Heart now galloping through his chest, he could swear she saw how nervous he was, how close he was to giving in to the pathetic dork inside him and running in the opposite direction. The puckered skin above his lip was a brand that told anyone who bothered to look his way that he’d been a loser since day fucking one.

But instead of any of the predicted ways she might react, she surged forward and their lips met. His mind exploded, fireworks ricocheting inside him, and pure instinct drove him to move, closing the distance between them on the bench. He needed her body next to his, needed to know what that lovely angle where her neck met her shoulder would feel like under his fingers, needed to fist her hair in his hand as they kissed. Daring to learn, daring to touch, even with shaking hands.

And _she._

She answered him want for want, with questioning hands of her own, only hers were sure and ready. As she spread one across his chest, the other drifted up to trace the shell of his ear, causing goosebumps to riot up Hawk’s arms.

When she pulled away just a little, he felt the loss of her viscerally, as if waking from an impossibly good dream and having to face reality for what it was.

Taking his lower lip in her teeth, she bit down gently and pulled. Hawk almost choked.

Not a dream. _Not a dream._

Then his hands were on her hips, her shoulders, tangled in her long hair, everywhere, anywhere she would let him hold her, moving his mouth against hers like it was air and he was drowning. He’d do hundreds of pushups on his knuckles if it meant he could be with her this way again, sit under the needle a thousand times. He’d even live through the countless miserable days and nights of his former life again if it meant he could do this, be with _her—_

“Hey, Moon!”

Hawk barely stifled a roar of frustration at the voice cutting through the din of music and chatter, clenching his fists when Moon pulled away from him with a quiet, “I’ll be back in a few, okay?”

He could only nod, unsure if he should believe her, his eyes tracking her until she was lost to the milling crowd of kids.

Maybe she’d be back, maybe she wouldn’t. He’d gotten more than he’d ever thought possible already.

But she did come back. And what was more, she’d defended him and his friends against the Wicked Bitch of the West, and after the incident of the Great Thong Wedgie, Moon had even turned to him and suggested, “Hey. You wanna get out of here?”

Not long after, Hawk found himself trailing after her through the shadows of her house, the lights off except for the ones in the kitchen at the back, the only noise that of feminine laughter and masculine murmuring and the distinct sound of wine being poured into a glass.

If it had been Hawk’s apartment they’d gone to, his mother would have descended on them in three seconds flat, with all sorts of questions and demands. Here, Moon didn’t bother to hide him. No one was looking, anyway. Taking his hand, she led him up the stairs and down a hallway, opening a door and guiding him inside.

The warm, homey smell of her hit him like an uppercut to the ribs, and he forced his feet forward on the soft shag carpet and tried not to stare like a touch-deprived former-dweeb at the secret sanctum of what he’d never thought he’d live to see: the inside of a girl’s bedroom.

That was the difference, though, wasn’t it? Eli could only wish something like this would happen. Hawk didn’t need to wish for it, he _did_ it.

The room held wonder after wonder, photos of her and her friends, clothes piled in a heap on an expensive-looking chair, colors and new textures of all kinds to explore. What held his attention entirely, however, was the vision of Moon climbing onto her bed and motioning him over.

Kicking off his boots, he stood there for a second in his socks, just barely accepting that this was real life, before clambering onto the downy comforter and carefully arranging his head on a pillow to face her where she lay. Couldn’t ruin the mohawk, it took too much effort to get it right to screw it up now.

 _Shit. How am I supposed to get my shirt off without looking like an idiot?_ He always did his hair after he put on a shirt in the morning.

Their faces close, she nodded to herself and said quietly, “I remember you now.”

_Triple shit._

“You sat behind me in precalc last year.”

His nerves went haywire but he played dumb, picking at the embroidered pillow under his head. “That wasn’t me.”

Oh, Hawk remembered precalc. He recalled with perfect clarity his anticipation when the teacher would hand out papers to the front row of desks, and when Moon would inevitably turn to hand him the stack to pass back. How desperately he longed for the brief moments when she would look at him, every so often gracing him with a small smile. How he’d simultaneously prayed for and dreaded the day when she might twist around in her seat to ask him a question about the homework, imagining what the gift of her attention on him might feel like. Hating how more than likely, his words would tumble over each other and come out an unintelligible stutter the one time he most wanted to be smooth and collected.

Predicting the way her gaze would drop to his scar, and the disgust he would see on her pretty face.

Moon shifted onto her back. “Well, I remember the green sweater that guy would always wear. I thought it brought out the color in his eyes.”

Another smile danced at the corners of her mouth, but Hawk could easily read the teasing tone of her voice. Normally, a situation like this would have his guard up in an instant, already on the offensive. Not this time.

“I hope he still has it,” she continued with a sigh. “I was a little jealous, it looked hecka comfy.”

Hawk still had the sweater. Currently, it occupied a dusty back corner of his closet floor, where he’d thrown all the junk he didn’t want to be associated with anymore. A badass karate master wouldn’t have an old cast-off sweater left behind by his dead-beat father. Or Dungeons and Dragons handbooks and multiple sets of dice, or a painstakingly refurbished Gameboy with every version of Pokémon ever released for the handheld console.

He should have thrown it all away, but had convinced himself that someday it might be useful to keep a reminder of his past self, maybe to prove how far he’d come. All the remnants of his stupid hobbies, the one article of clothing Tom the Traveling Salesman had left behind before exiting from his son and wife’s lives completely, apart from irritatingly regular child-support checks.

Moon… shouldn’t know any of that. Couldn’t know. Eli’s dumbass clothes and his way of clinging to fantasies were gone. Hawk didn’t pine for what he couldn’t have. Hawk just took it.

Making the offer as coolly as he could, Hawk said, “I could probably get it for you, if you want.” Keep up the game of pretend, that he would beat up a nerd for his ugly sweater. It was better than acknowledging he used to be that nerd.

She flipped onto her side and scooched closer on the mattress. “Mmm… maybe. There are other things I want more, though.”

Yeah, he was over talking about the past, too. Time to live in the here and now.

Cocking his brow and throwing her a much-practiced knowing smile, he challenged her. “What, like this?”

_Strike hard. Strike first._

Lunging forward, he covered her mouth with his, only this time she squeaked in surprise, and he moved to plant his arms and knees on either side of her, hovering over her body while he pressed hard kisses onto her lips, trying to taste her, to recreate the thrill of the campfire, the beach.

Pushing him away, she chuckled breathlessly. “Wow!”

Anxiety crashed down on him. Maybe she didn’t like it rough. Had he just ruined everything?

_Fear does not exist in this dojo. Defeat does not exist in this dojo._

Diving down to capture her mouth again, she stopped him with a palm to the chest.

“Wait,” she asked softly.

 _For what?!_ he wanted to scream, wanting nothing more than to either get the fuck up and leave to wallow in the wound of her rejection, or else continue as before, taking what she was willing to give while he still had her, while he still had the chance.

But it wasn’t anger he saw on her face as he looked down at her in the dim light. Despite instincts both old and new railing at him to do anything but be still, he did what she asked and waited, arms trembling with restraint.

Slowly, she moved her hand up from his chest to his face, the pad of her thumb drawing a searing line across his cheekbone as she studied him intently, as if seeing him for the first time.

Heart stuttering against his ribs, Hawk closed his eyes, memorizing the soft brush of her fingertips on his skin, begging the universe to never let him forget the way she made him feel right now.

Her fingers paused, and he opened his eyes again to see her staring, again, at his lip.

Alarms of retreat sounded deep inside him, but he forced himself to stay, to look her square in the eyes and dare her to say something about it, preparing for the assault, for the _Shitlip, Scarface, Mouthkowitz,_ or _Clefty_ sure to come.

But, just as gentle as before, she lifted her finger to trace the line of his scar, her eyes flicking back up to his.

His breath caught in his throat and he shuddered.

Moon bit her bottom lip and tugged at the collar of his shirt playfully, pulling him closer.

“This is what I want.”

This time, when she pulled him down, she lightly touched her lips to his, asking, _can I have it like this?_

He kissed her back, hesitant, every bit as tender.

_Yes, anything you want. Anything._

She smiled up at him, and suddenly he was struggling against tears, about to cry like the pathetic virgin loser he was. She'd seen him, seen _through_ him, and still wanted him here.

So instead of crying, instead of running, he kissed her back deeply, like the man he was trying to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never post playlists with my fics. Except for this one, apparently. No one's going to read it anyway so here goes lol 🤪
> 
> [Avril Lavigne, "Things I'll Never Say"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PqpWWMIsar8)  
> [Avril Lavigne, "Complicated"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FynZChaDqQs)  
> [Matchbox 20, "Unwell"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=StFfXP4eAgU)  
> [The Goo Goo Dolls, "Iris"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aNO6yd66PpA)  
> [Michelle Branch, "Everywhere"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u-6mOPzWGwg)  
> [Ellie Goulding, "I'll Hold My Breath"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8TgikL9N1mY)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Binged season three. Loved it. But it was missing juuuuuust a little something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Hawk is an asshole in this one. (He is in canon, let’s be real. I still love him.) He says mean things to Moon, because he is a deeply insecure teenage boy, so insecure with his own identity that he literally put on an *entirely different persona* to hide it. He’s also hurting after their breakup—he doesn’t honestly mean what he says, and there's a fair amount of unhealthy projection happening, too. It doesn’t excuse his behavior, it just explains it.
> 
> Tags have been updated, AND I had to raise the rating of the piece. With that in mind, please enjoy!

“You have to stop staring at me all the time. It’s getting weird.”

Hawk had imagined a dozen scenarios in the space of a minute when Moon pulled him aside after study hall let out and tucked them into a quiet corner behind the cafeteria. _To talk,_ she’d said.

This conversation was not one of them.

The truth of it made her demand that much worse.

Ever since that stupid party on the riverbank, the universe had flipped its gravitational pull, and instead of the sun at the center of the rotation, there sat Moon.

This remained unchanged even after the break up. She claimed his full attention, even when she blatantly ignored him. No matter the time or place, the magnetic pole of her existence drew him in like its diametric opposite.

_Fucking physics._

She distracted him in class, at lunch, in the parking lot as he watched her walk to her car. If she did address him, her distant, cordial tone set the boundary—acquaintanceship. He didn’t have permission anymore to drape his arms across her shoulders, or nuzzle kisses into neck, or smell her hair. It infuriated him.

Just like before, she’d become as unattainable as the moon itself in orbit around the Earth. Bright, beautiful, and so, _so_ far out of reach.

He missed her. When she smiled at someone other than him, all he wanted to do was punch a brick wall until his knuckles bled, just to feel something other than the dropping sensation of hurt in his gut. At night, she occupied his thoughts, replays of every time they were together running through his head like the world’s most pathetic movie reel.

And now, she had him by the balls, calling him out on his puppy-eyed bullshit. And that stung.

“Can you, like, get a grip? Please? You’re being awful to my friends, and making everything super uncomfortable.”

He rolled his eyes at her and shook his head, thinking back on the totally blown out of proportion soccer-ball-assisted Lego volcano demolition. Again, Class A Nerd Demitri just being a dweeb. As if Hawk needed another reason to hate him, other than being the reason Moon broke up with him in the first place.

“You’re just making shit up to make yourself feel special,” he sneered at her.

“Really. You’re going to gaslight me? I can’t even with you right now. This is crazy.”

“What are you, my fucking shrink?”

 _“God_ no. You clearly have issues, but I don’t even want to know what going in your messed up brain. Just leave me out of it!”

He couldn’t physically fight Moon. With any other jerk he would have thrown down in a heartbeat, but with her, punches of the verbal variety would have to do. Hawk didn’t hit girls who didn’t know how to fight back.

That’s what deadbeat alcoholic dads did. Before they up and left, that is.

Time for a different approach.

“Admit it. You still think about me,” he said, the words dripping with bravado.

“What about _any_ of this makes you think that things have changed between us? You’re still acting like a bully, and now you’re bullying me. I don’t know what your problem is, but this isn’t you. Do everyone a favor and stop pretending to be something you’re not. Stop lying to yourself, Eli.”

The name was like a grenade.

 _“You don’t get to call me that,”_ he snarled as hot rage bubbled up in his chest.

How dare she. After everything she put him through.

All the afternoons spent driving himself into the ground with training, just to forget his heartache for a while. The tears in the shower he pretended were just running water. The hours spent trying, and failing, to ignore the empty space on his closet floor where that stupid-ass green sweater used to sit, before Moon had taken it and not given it back. Hating himself day after day for still pining for the bitch who dumped him.

Except that she wasn’t a bitch. Her smile and warmth felt more like home than he ever thought a person could. She was supposed to be his forever, and he still wanted that _so badly,_ even after she’d flayed his chest open and ripped his heart out that night in the plaza parking lot, when she’d said, _I didn’t ask for that._

Fury pounded through him, screaming at him to wound her like she wounded him.

“Poor little Eli. Wanted to make him your charity case, huh? Make you feel good about yourself, for dating a loser? Well, guess what?” He leaned heavily in her space. “He doesn’t exist anymore. You fucked me, not Eli. You two-faced fake.”

He eyes went wide, brimming with tears as she backed away from him, clutching her book bag.

Voice wavering, she answered him, “Yeah, well, let me know when he’s back, okay?” Turning on her heel, she left him.

The traitor in him whispered, _I… am Eli, though,_ before Hawk shoved the thought down, slamming the door on that part of him for what he hoped would be the last time.

Moon was shit out of luck if she thought Eli-fucking-Mouthkowitz was ever coming back, and the time had come for Hawk to stop wallowing like a pansy and get his ass in gear.

She was walking away from _him,_ with her gorgeous, soft body, her pretty clothes, her warm eyes—

So he made his heart go hard, crushing it into a small, sharp-edged thing. He didn’t own the fault here, _she_ did. She was selfish, clingy. Hawk was an alpha, an apex predator, and he didn’t need her.

But even as he thought the words, they rang hollow. Like they were the biggest lie yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe more after season 4 airs? We shall see.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
